#writtng

[lyatudor]

Why horror?

Good question? Why horror of all things?

Why not romance or fluff? Why not some light hearted subjects? Short answer. I could never fit an entire book of content on that, not me. Romance, maybe, but it would still be angsty on even the best day of writing. To this day I wish I could write a romance novel, but somewhere down the line I fall short.

Some people are cut out for certain things, I am not.

Ever since I was little I was never scared of the dark. Mom would be creeped out by me going about the house with no lights on. My brother was scared of the dark though.

One of my parent's favorite stories about their weird daughter was that they let me watch TV so they could cook. All of the sudden I started crying and they rushed in thinking I was scared because it was a horror movie. I was crying because the little monster died. Their words, not mine.

The trope of the dark will get you if you misbehave or some other stuff did not phase me, no Boogie man for me, no monsters under the bed, I used to make believe they would crawl out and dance with me or something along those lines. But I was scared if they threatened me with the neighbors coming to get me. Because people scared me more.

They were worse than anything.

Silence and the night was calming for me. Three o'clock filled me with inspiration.

But not even that explains it truly.

I was made to read from a very small age stories with death, heavy subjects for I had a person trying to create something of me. I didn't understand it then, probably never did fully to this day, but it shaped certain ideas in my head.

And it clicked.

Horror doesn't necessarily mean ghosts and the dead coming back. It's atmosphere, it's using feelings against one person, it's imagination to the fullest extent and reaching into emotions people tend to bury.

Yes, I understand why most prefer fluff and easier topics. Why subject yourself to something like horror or even better phycological horror? I don't have an answer apart from: try it sometime.

Try finding out something about yourself that is new and raw. We all come out different then and that's where inspiration finds me.

Will you join me?

Up to you really.

[sadecetugce]

Senin haberin olmadı ama birçok kez affettim. Sana geldim,kapına dayandım. Belki sesim çıkmadı ama avazım çıktığı kadar bağırdım; Artık beni üzme diye.

Haberin olmadı.

Döndün sırtını gittin.

Ciğerim çıkana dek koştum.

Yetişemedim.

Haberin olmadı.

En çok seni sevdim.

Haberin olmadı

[gravesadlersdarlin]

English classes offered at colleges and universities which one is best.

Colleges often offer different course options in English. If you want to major in English, write fiction, or simply improve your reading and writing skills, students should know that English at the undergraduate level analyzes topics on a deeper level and at lower levels than what was tested in high school. In my opinion, you should use the language component because it is similar to the content in Creative Writing, the focus is provided on the Language component. These kids use their persuasive writing skills in advertising, other forms of technology, and in professional writing rather than for fun. Some organizations may decide to include creative writing in the broader category of composition. Writing for specific audiences is a skill that students develop in language writing programs. Upon graduation, English students can use their critical writing skills in any industry, writing in a variety of tones and accents for a wide audience. It is rare for a student in this profession to obtain a certificate, which further sets them apart from the competition on their resume.

[a-void-of-illusions]

I wanna make a book series or some shit and then wait for it to be popular, have shippers and no one can agree on ship. I'll have no accounts or anything portraying to this and just wait. Then one day I'm gonna make a social media account and have it fly under the raidar until one day in a heated discorse about ships just say that all the characters are ace aros.

[onismconsumes-blog]

You can’t define personalities by adjectives. It reduces intricacies to mere nothings

Me

[onismconsumes-blog]

Long Lost Friend

His ice cold fingers caress your face; you have to refrain from flinching away constantly reminding yourself he’s a long lost friend. You can hear his laugh in the air as you shiver or slip on the ice. He’s there making us wrap up warm on those snowy days. The chill bites into your skin the longer you stay with him, but we stay anyway. The days are either fun filled or miserable when he’s around. Your either sick or out in the cold. We fear the time he will leave. For, we do not wish to part with any of our friends.  Although when we say goodbye to him, the Frost, we get to see our friend Spring.

[onismconsumes-blog]

What Have we Done

The snow lands softly on the blanket it had laid the night before. Pine trees surround the glade and create a beautiful snow covered meadow, like the kind you find in fairy tales. There was a magical feel about it all. How it seems so calm and untouched by the horrors of the world, maybe it is the last part of the world that has not been reached by evil. Evil, that mankind has brought to this once beautiful, peaceful planet. All it is now is a dumping ground for bodies that have been slain in the battle for power, which is all humans want now. Power, greed and lust eat at them removing all peace. Any good intentions are tainted by power, lust, popularity, fame or riches. All we want is more. Why isn’t what we have enough? What have we done, to this once beautiful Earth?

[onismconsumes-blog]

End of All Things

 I do not wish to die, for my last sight to be death and destruction as the world is burnt to the ground by greed, would be a sadness. For this to be my last sight I bare to either the heavens or the fiery pits bellow. But then how could there be a god or heaven when there is so much hate and greed. How could ‘God’ let us ruin the world he supposedly created. I do not want to die, not now when all I can do is watch helplessly as our world is reduced to rubble and ash. To hear the cries of sorrow and pain as loved ones take their last stuttering breaths. I struggle to remember what life was like before war, before everything came crashing down. When it was peaceful, when we worried about taxes not our neighbours slowly carving intricate patterns into our skin, in the dead of night.

Looking out at the once beautiful city park, you can see the effects of these long, long years of ruin. The pain behind their eyes reminded me of all that I had been through; many have been through more though. They would have seen the light leave loved ones eyes, seen their children succumb to depression, I do not believe there could be a greater sadness. I have been alone for all of the war but long for someone to save me. Yet I know I will most likely get hurt more, because either they will betray me or they’ll die, seeing as that’s what everyone else is doing.